Questions and Answers
by Kopitar
Summary: In which Noll tells a truth and misjudges the reactions of the members of SPR.


**Bear with me please; I haven't written in a long time, much less for Ghost Hunt, and so I am very rusty. Also, forgive the bit of rambling that happens at times. I tried to remove some parts that are unnecessary and overly out of character, but I'm afraid I still managed to get quite wordy at some points. I'm hoping I edited it thoroughly, but I'm posting it almost immediately after writing it and proof-reading it myself, so I may have missed something. Enjoy! And of course, feedback is much appreciated!  
**

* * *

In which Noll tells a truth and misjudges the reactions of the members of SPR.

It was after his returning from England that Oliver was bombarded with questions about himself. Apparently Mai had decided that she had not gotten to know him well enough, and so she had exploded with (well thought-out, he had to admit) questions the minute he stepped foot off the plane.

He had, of course, called the members of SPR in advance to confirm their reassembly. Lin had kept their numbers, it seemed, somehow knowing that Oliver would want to go back. Unbeknownst to Oliver, Lin had known even before the ache to leave England had become apparent to Oliver's parents. He knew Noll well, better than anyone now that Gene was gone, he'd like to believe. He had seen the way Noll had clenched fists on the plane, which he knew was not stemmed from fear of flying. Noll was scarcely afraid of anything having to do with his own safety, after all. (The same, of course, could not be said about anything having to do with his grudgingly-admitted-to-being friends.) And so, they had all gathered without telling him at the airport to greet him, despite the fact that he had not asked them to, and in fact had asked them _not_ to. His chest did not feel warm when they arrived. He most certainly did not have to force down his first real smile since leaving Japan in the first place. And he would die before admitting that he had almost returned Mai's too-long welcome back hug, before she pulled away too quickly to wipe away tears.

They had retrieved his luggage, and then immediately after, the questions began. It seemed Mai intended to waste no time getting to know him and the details of his life.

He humored her, answering most of her (more interesting, less embarrassing) questions seriously. "When did you begin to have powers?" "At what age were you adopted?" All were answered to the best of his capability.

"What is your middle name?" Others, not so much.

He did enjoy throwing out a few meaningless facts about himself to try and stop her curiosity for a bit as jet lag caught up to him and induced a massive migraine. (The first of many, he imagined.) It worked for a few minutes, until she had even more questions for him, and he mentally scolded himself for giving her food for thought.

Annoying, he thought. I wish she'd shut up. She did, tripping over a toy which had not been dropped in front of her without help. That is to say, Oliver had thoughtlessly and unconsciously, though intentionally, moved the object with his psychokinesis. That had not happened in a while. Specifically, since he had left Japan.

Mai was not as ignorant as he thought, and she did shut up for the rest of the ride to Noll and Lin's apartment, where the two were dropped off. Oliver didn't apologize, even though Mai seemed hurt that he had done something so childish to make her quiet down.

It was the next day at the SPR building, as the team organized the bookshelves and file cabinets once again to Oliver's taste, that the question came.

While the others spoke among themselves loudly, Mai had stood in front of him and said quietly, in almost a whisper, "Have you ever hurt someone? I mean, badly?"

It wasn't a question he had been expecting, to be honest. His powers and his brother mostly had seemed off-limits in her questions. He probably should have expected some questions like this, questions about his powers and his brother and everything that actually mattered, but he didn't think she'd ask something so blunt (and, he hurt to admit, vaguely accusing and hurtful). He had thought she regarded him with a higher ideal, that she thought he was above such things. That she thought he was a better person than that.

In truth, Oliver did not hold himself in such high regard as it seems to most people. To the people who can read him well, (Gene. And, to a certain extent, Lin and his mother, and at times his father) he was not so self-assured in some matters such as his morality and virtue. He thought that, if he believed in such things, he would definitely go to hell.

He didn't really see the point of lying about such a thing. "I once murdered a man."

He said it nonchalantly as he read the cover of a book and then lifted it to its place high on the book shelf, hoping in the back of his mind that it wouldn't draw the attention of the rest of the team. He nearly winced when it grew quiet and they turned to him. He didn't need to see their faces to read their expressions. No doubt, Lin looked at him with vague pity and regret and concern. Mai looked at him in shock, and the rest no doubt held disgust and condemnation in their judgmental gazes.

"Wh-at?" There it was, the crack in Mai's voice as she refused to believe he meant what it was clear that he meant.

"I killed someone. Mai, you know I hate repeating myself." He still was shelving each book he came across in the box at his feet, the only movement in the still room.

"Naru.." Lin warned, but Oliver would have none of it.

"What, Lin? Why hide it? They'll be working for me. Best know what I've done." What sins I carry with me. What plagues me, not due to the act itself, but because I hold no regret for it.

He continued shelving the books in silence, barely reading the titles anymore and so scanning over them for longer and longer each time before putting them in their place. The rest stared at him, probably in shock, he imagined, or regret maybe for working for him. Considering leaving, perhaps. Hating him, probably. He shoved down the hurt he felt, and the shame that they knew of something he had kept to himself for so long (though, it was not as if no one else knew. Others were there. That was the reason why it happened. Why he-)

"I imagine you're dying to know. Fine. I'll tell you. I was working a case. It was one of those which turn from being strictly paranormal to one requiring police intervention. I was overconfident and overestimated myself, and ended up staring down the barrel of a gun, my brother staring down the barrel of another. There were two gunmen. I won't explain the case, that would take too long and I am busy, you know, as you all should be, since we are here today to organize the office efficiently, are we not? Well. It can't be helped. Both men were about to shoot. With my PK-ST, I turned the man's gun around as he pulled the trigger on Gene. He shot himself in the head, with my help. The man about to shoot me was surprised, and did not aim correctly. He shot me through my left arm. The police arrived, the one man was arrested, and the other was ruled as a suicide, and I walked away free." He finally turned toward them. "The office isn't going to set itself up."

He scanned their expressions. Mai held her hands over her mouth and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Lin's head was held down, his expression unreadable, as were Yasuhara's and Masako's. John's eyes held sympathy and regret. Ayako and Bou-san both had similar expressions of shock. None of them, to his surprise, looked disgusted. He blinked, taken aback a bit. He wasn't even sure why he had told them that story in the first place. The one case he never spoke about, the one case no one brought up to him. He wasn't sure what to do, and he shifted his weight onto his right leg and touched the place under his left sleeve where the scar from the shot was.

Mai was, surprisingly, the first to recover. She stepped toward him uncertainly, placing her hand over his hand on his left arm. "It wasn't your fault. You were trying to save your brother." He shrugged her arm off and lifted his chin, and the shadow cast under his eyes betrayed his stoic exterior, his eternal self-condemnation apparent in his gaze.

Not liking to bare himself, he stepped back from her. "Get to work, I'm not paying you to stand around." He then picked up another book, read the title, and shelved it. He remained doing so until the box was empty. He was too prideful to even look at his friends after such an admission. Too prideful even to show any of the gratitude he felt when they all went back to talking and organizing as if the entire event had not happened.

In the back of his mind, as he stepped into his office to organize the file cabinet and get away from his noisy co-workers, he wondered if he would do the same thing for them. That is, do something so reckless if they were in a similar situation.

He thought back to the incident, to the specific time it occurred, and knew without a doubt, that had it been he alone that would have been shot, he wouldn't have even considered doing such a thing, ending a person's very _life,_ in order to save himself.

He then thought to his friends outside his open office door, and the acceptance they emanated even after hearing his confession. Without a doubt, he knew that he would repeat the circumstance for each and every one of them, endless times.

He shut the file cabinet and walked out into the main room, and said that which shocked them most out of all that was said that day: "Why don't we take a break, and eat lunch?" And then, something which did not surprise them at all, for after everything, he was a creature of habit: "Mai, tea."


End file.
